Chapter 337: I Was Looking For You
The Room of Hope.
A roaring fire blazed in the hearth.
The Owl Gentleman in the portrait took his winter attire very seriously; he had donned a tiny painted hat and was currently attempting to pull a pair of knitted gloves onto his talons. When Sean entered, the bird was clutching a miniature overcoat he'd scavenged from a neighboring portrait, trying to drape it over his feathers.
"Young wizard!" the owl hooted, only for the coat to slip from his beak and flutter to the floor of his frame.
Sean ignored the subsequent pecking and flapping at the back of his head as he walked past. Everyone except Sean usually made a show of being "frightened" by the bird's antics; it was the only way to get him to stay quiet for a few days.
Beside the warmth of the fire stood Sean's wooden cabinet, which was developing a startling amount of self-awareness. As Sean approached, the wood groaned and shifted, the drawers rearranging themselves until it "spat out" a copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.
Sean stared at the furniture for a long moment. Its sentience was growing at an almost alarming rate.
He flipped open the book. The foreword, written by Albus Dumbledore, was as familiar as ever:
When Newt's masterpiece was first published, it was immediately designated a standard textbook for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It has undoubtedly been a cornerstone of our students' success in Care of Magical Creatures—yet, it is not a book intended only for the classroom. No wizarding household is without a copy, thumbed through generation after generation as they seek the best way to rid their lawns of Horklumps, interpret the mournful cry of an Augurey, or cure their pet Puffskein of the habit of drinking out of the toilet.
—Albus Dumbledore
This reminded Sean of his own project. He pulled out a notebook filled with dense, esoteric script. The International Alchemical Association had been badgering him to publish a definitive work on the Fairy Tale Biscuit series. Even Master Nicolas Flamel had offered to write the foreword.
Yes, the Great Master was still very much alive.
Sean wasn't sure if he was the "butterfly wing" that had changed the timeline, but as long as Flamel had the will to live, death seemed unable to claim him. Professor Terra's take on the matter was far more blunt:
"To ask a man who has spent centuries pursuing alchemical truth to die while his curiosity is still at its peak? Well, Little Green, you'd likely just end up with the most persistent ghost in history."
So, the book remained a work in progress. Documenting the magical rituals wasn't the difficult part—explaining the underlying principles was. Sean struggled to put into words the flashes of raw inspiration that guided his work. Writing the book was becoming a way for him to understand his own craft on a deeper level.
Regarding his progress, the requirements for the Master Alchemist title were steep:
[Promotion: Three Master-level high-tier Alchemical creations required to unlock the 'Master Alchemist' title.]
Sean's Fairy Tale Biscuit series only counted as one category. The mountain ahead was daunting. Even the Kneazle Biscuits, the ones he had practiced most, had only just reached the [Expert] rank.
The requirements for his other skills were no easier:
[Promotion: Twelve Expert-level charms or five Master-level charms required to unlock the 'Charms Expert' title.]
Sometimes, Sean wondered: exactly how much proficiency is 'enough'?
He set the draft aside. Professor Terra had joked that even if it were published, those who could actually understand the theory could be counted on one hand. As for those who hoped to replicate his results? Terra had merely sneered.
"In another hundred years, maybe. The Book of Abraham the Jew has existed for millennia, yet Nicolas Flamel is the only man to have ever successfully produced a Philosopher's Stone."
Top-tier Alchemy demanded a level of innate talent almost as rare as the gift of Prophecy.
Outside, the snow fell in soft, silent flurries. Inside the Room of Hope, the group had settled into a comfortable, productive study session.
Justin seemed to have recovered his spirits; he was currently experimenting with charm-chaining while a batch of pastries baked in his enchanted oven. Hermione was deep into a study of Non-verbal Spells, having received several private tutoring sessions from Professor Flitwick. Ron was finally able to produce stable transfigurations, though the occasional beetle or rat still scurried across his desk unexpectedly. Harry and Neville were huddled together, discussing the finer points of Defense Against the Dark Arts—a subject in which both had become remarkably proficient.
Sean returned to his reading. His eyes scanned the thick parchment of Newt's guide:
[In 1832, a wizard in Cincinnati named Abel Treetops claimed to have patented a method for domesticating the Wampus Cat to act as a guardian for wizarding dwellings. The MACUSA subsequently raided Treetops' home and discovered he was merely casting Engorgement Charms on Kneazles, exposing him as a fraud.]
The Wizarding World certainly has no shortage of charlatans, Sean thought dryly. He flipped forward a few pages.
[Rumors of Wampus Cats have long persisted around Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, likely because the creature serves as the namesake for one of the four school houses. In truth, the school does indeed maintain a small sanctuary for the species.]
"Ilvermorny..." Sean whispered the name.
The prospect of finding a Wampus Cat in the vast wilderness of North America was a needle in a haystack. But Ilvermorny was a different story.
If Sean remembered correctly, Professor Terra held the title of Honorary Professor at Ilvermorny. For reasons unknown to him, the woman had apparently taught at nearly every major magical institution on the planet.
"Oh, that old question..."
Professor Terra leaned over her desk, a small smile playing on her lips. "I was looking for you, my apprentice."
Sean blinked, startled.
"It seems you've developed a keen interest in the Wampus Cat. In that case, perhaps we should plan a trip for the Christmas holidays. Ilvermorny is widely considered one of the most democratic and inclusive of the great magical schools. Let me think... they even have a Sorting ceremony, though it's a bit different from the one here at Hogwarts."
Terra gave a brief overview of the American school before sending a charmed paper airplane wobbling out the window. The message written inside was simple:
Eugenia Herrera, it seems your prayers have been answered. I shall visit this Christmas, and I am bringing my apprentice with me.
The high-ranking witch Sean had seen at the International Alchemy Conference—the tall, bronze-skinned woman with the commanding presence—was indeed Eugenia Herrera, the current Headmistress of Ilvermorny. Her eventual successor would be Agilbert Fontaine.
Ilvermorny had produced many famous names. Among them was Tina Goldstein, a celebrated Auror and the wife of Sean's illustrious upper-year, Newt Scamander.
In the corridor.
Thick snowflakes danced outside the windows, which were already crusted with ice, leaving the interior of the castle dim and grey.
Sean's Project Map hovered before him. A new landmark shimmered into existence far beyond the borders of Hogwarts:
[Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry]
In the top-left corner of the label, a single word appeared in small, neat script: [Christmas].
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